More on my fiction writing

July 11, 2011

All stars

Even the most skeptical auditor of Phoenix's challenges and follies must admit some pride in Major League Baseball's All-Star Game being held there. And in downtown Phoenix, not some "Valley," not in exurban "Glendale, Ariz." Considering how city leaders allowed the central city to circle the drain for decades, visitors will see some impressive efforts at revitalization: CityScape, the Phoenix Convention Center, Sheraton, biosciences campus, ASU downtown and light rail (we built it, you bastards). Oh, for big-city boutique hotels at the Westward Ho and Professional Building. The baseball stadium is ugly, a lost architectural opportunity, but at least it's downtown, an eventuality I highly doubt if it were being built today under present ownership. They can hop a train to Midtown to take in the spectacular Modern Mexican Painting exhibition at the Phoenix Art Museum, a pleasant contrast to the general, and generally deserved, reputation of intolerance and racism for the state at large. If you want to boycott, do so against the East Valley and Scottsdale (but not the Poisoned Pen bookstore), not tolerant central Phoenix.

Some quick advice to out-of-towners: It's a dry heat, but so is hell. So is a thermonuclear explosion. Stay hydrated (I freeze bottles of water to carry with me; they melt quickly but you're not left drinking hot water). Avoid much exposure to the sun. Wear light-colored clothes, especially white, and cover as much skin as possible. Keep some popsicles in the freezer at the hotel; have one to help cool down when you come in from outside. Don't do something stupid like climb Camelback Mountain or go "exploring" in the desert. God created air-conditioning for a reason — use it. A dark, cool Mexican restaurant is an especially satisfying hangout in the summer. If the media say the high will be 105, that's in the shade at Sky Harbor. The surface temp on the street is around 140. I hope to hell somebody will give them such advice, so there's not a great All-Star die-off. Too bad City Hall encouraged all that concrete, all that gravel and no shade trees.

Still, the big game is, at best, a temporary respite from the troubles of city and state.

The nation was transfixed on the big dust storm, which seemed like one more plague Jehovah could bring against the place. All I can guess is that this was a result of all the media gathering for the big game. Urban central Arizona needs plenty of coverage about its unsustainable and crazy ways, which will have national and international consequences. But a big dust storm? Next they'll discover cactus. I also crankily resent the whole "haboob" thing. The word historically connotes a sandstorm in the Sahara, not the dust storms that are peculiar to the Sonoran Desert. Maybe it's hip, but it strikes me as one more inauthentic act from the vandal transplants, like moving into Willo or Palmcroft and throwing down "desert" landscaping ("Because we live in a desert!"). Anyway, "Ha, Boob," is a formal salutation for a member of the state Legislature.

This is not to say the weather isn't changing for the worse. The latest studies of temperure change over the decades show an alarming 11-degree increase in night-time temps in Phoenix, which translates into longer, hotter summers. Monsoon storms are now violent as they collide with the heat island. And we haven't even begun to cook with climate change. But nobody in the media seems interested. Ha, boobs, indeed.

One wonders how the Kookocracy will try to get in on the All-Star action. One source told me The Badged Ego was going to send a chain gang over to clean up the stadium area. How could he resist barging into the national spotlight? This would be a good time for somebody's special forces to rendition him to a third country for the same treatment he metes out at the tent jail (nearly 150 degrees last week) before landing him in the Hague as a cellmate of Ratko Mladic. Surely John McCain will make some incoherent but outrageous blurt ("Foul balls are caused by illegal Mexicans!"). Ah, here we go: A Republican state senator from Anthempointed a gun at a reporter's chest. Nice! Meanwhile, Russell Pearce is facing a recall. Will Jan Brewer, who owes him her governorship, sign the bill for the election? If it happens, Democrats would be smart to unite behind a sane, Mormon Republican. Otherwise, Mr. SB 1070 might survive.

Meanwhile, hosannas are being shouted about signs of an alleged recovery in house sales. I'm skeptical — the bounce is tiny, the hole deep. But even if the Growth Machine restarts, to what general good? Don't think me hard-hearted. I learned yesterday of another friend in trouble because of the bust. But recovery of the old unsustainable monster will only set the table for an even bigger feast of disaster. Nobody has learned anything from these hard years. It seems auspicious, then, that Jay Butler, ASU's real-estate professor, decided to retire. The Republichailed him: "Because he wasn't paid by homebuilders or real-estate agents, he was free to say what he thought, and his unwavering honesty and outspoken opinions gained him harsh critics."

Maybe he had a harsh critic in that nutjob who (used to?) put out a super-booster real-estate newsletter. Otherwise Butler was safe and cautious, full of the conventional growthgasm boosterish sprawly consensus until reality was screaming so loud that even he and economist/developer Elliott Pollack could play at being bears and bearers of hard truths. It was always surprising, given Phoenix's dependence on a single industry, why ASU didn't develop the nation's most respected center for real-estate studies (such as the one at UCLA). But that would be too dangerous. Better to have Butler, who claims that "no one" (??!) saw the big crash coming. A nice guy, he still epitomized the Upton Sinclair quote, "It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it." As do so many. The fist of the Real Estate Industrial Complex can reach into ASU (ask Tom Rex), the Republic, anywhere. Thus is an astonishing conformity of thought enforced upon a metropolis that can ill afford it.

As passive a nation as we've become, something might begin to stir when people actually realize this isn't a 1st World nation any longer.

I suspect the only recourse we have is the unconditional surrender to Republican rule. Since only Republicans are real Americans, and only Republicans understand economics, and only Republicans love God, we might as well cease resistance and hand over the government to them. Let's give Lady Liberty a Randian makeover. Let's pledge allegiance to our Galtian overlords. And for the love of Jesus, be nice to rich people. Maybe one will give you a job.

"It was always surprising, given Phoenix's dependence on a single industry, why ASU didn't develop the nation's most respected center for real-estate studies" - Rogue

If something couldn't emerge organically, then there is little surprise that one was not 'developed'. The situation is an expression of Conway's Law: the constraints of the production system are reflected in the product.

Hope remains for the emergence of the ASU College of Detritus Management. Another satellite campus?

There's probably a pretty compelling rap sheet on Mr. Colangelo's spending binge with the D'Backs and (to a lesser extent) the Suns, but he's still looking good compared to present ownership and management of these franchises . . in my opinion. Jerry's also known for many random acts of philanthropy and community support. Example: he quietly stepped in with his Rolodex to save the Phoenix Symphony from being swamped by its own financial tsunami many years ago. I was impressed because he had no real contact with the symphony . . just didn't want a community icon to tank. As Jon has observed, this kind of leadership is largely a thing of the past.

To my knowledge, steroids became too easy to detect. Because cyclists are tested just a little more frequently than other athletes (except, perhaps olympic athletes?) they have had to adopt. EPO (Erythropoietin) was very popular for a while. I don't know what is currently the hottest performance booster. I'm still on Wheaties, grit, and Glenlivet. My last ride before I turned 50 (today) was 40 miles in under 2 hours in the Florida heat and humidity (with an ocean swim at the half-way point). Go Glenlivet!

One exception; it has been rather humid and Monday morning I was awoken by thunder and moderate to heavy. It has been rather "cool" the last few days, only 99 currently with an expected high of 102...I've heard many visitors hoping to be witness to another massive haboob. I guess they just don't get those in New York or Boston. :-) Jon, you are right about the use of the term haboob. I don't remember ever hearing or reading about the Sonoran desert's dust storms referred to by the Arabic term for sandstorm until recently. It "complements" the change of the monsoon season as a set time frame instead of the 3 days marker where the dew point measured above 55°.

I talked to some Yankee fans whom were also in Phoenix for the 2001 World Series; they commented on how different downtown has become compared to a decade ago. Except he expected more high density residential building given how fast metro Phoenix has grown in the last 10 years. Still, he was surprised by the light rail and its efficiency and cleanliness.

I'm a little puzzled by the steroids outrage. I understand the medical issue but not the "performance enhancement" one. Athletes do whatever they can, either through legal chemicals or illegal ones, to improve their capacities. At some point, as Lance Armstrong demonstrates, the ones with the best flacks, attorneys, and PR will still win the day.

The medical side is somewhat unclear but people damage themselves in worse ways than steroids. Suggestion: go to a Walmart and do a cursory BMI check on the customers. As a nation, we're in a fiscal/physical trainwreck because we can't control our ingestion of really harmful chemicals like sucrose and trans-fats. I think I'd rather take dietary advice from Armstrong than the average Walmart customer.

The morality play about drugs is multi-layered, convoluted, and always surreal. I drink beer and wine in moderation, and take nutritional supplements (like azrebel, COQ10), but I stay away from the psychotropic stuff. I want to know myself in all my lurid details. I know people who take a dozen drugs a day to control virtually every metabolic function in their body. At some point, we might as well admit we're living a chemical life in an artificial environment.

In the end, it hardly matters if Barry Bonds cheated or if Hank Aaron was nobler, or if Babe Ruth was a freak. We're physical beings having a physical experience on a physical sphere. We'll do what we can to win because that's the nature of our curse. I know the "goodness" thingie is always a daydream away but you can control it with a drug.

Today the sun consumed 4 billion kilos of matter per second and turned it into energy.

In spite of all the human folly on this planet, the sun will do the same again tomorrow, and the day after that.

The question is, when will that one special Walmart customer grow large enough to eventually collapse in on himself to create a black hole here on earth? It is a question that keeps Stephen Hawking up at night.

I watched The Tillman Story on DVD last week. It's a solid documentary, in which a nearly ideal family fights and nearly wins an epic battle with the Pentagon over the circumstances of Pat's death. These people approximate an ideal of "rugged individualists" that is markedly different from the sociopathic right-wing ideal. They're not pouty, self-serving, or bullies.

I'm still a little bitter how our sunshine patriots misappropriated Tillman's legend for their own purposes. Tillman questioned the Iraq war yet in death, he became its most glorious hero. I recall that time a few months after his death when F-14s did a flyover during a Cardinals' game. During that time, the Pentagon and White House were busy crafting bright and shining lies about Pat to advance its war propaganda.

There's a grotesque statue of Tillman now in front of Cardinal stadium in Glendale. It's the kind of bad-taste piece of art that places like Arizona use to self-congratulate for being "winners". It reminds me why I hate these pricks.

RC, he did specify that he didn't want a public funeral or any kind of public memorial in case of his death. He was adamant about that, so his parents had to fight the Pentagon (and likely the Rove operation in the West Wing) to prevent his funeral being hijacked for propaganda purposes. The family did agree to the Cardinal memorial but later regretted it. The Tillman saga is probably not the most compelling story to come out of that Neocon horror show (Valerie Plame's is certainly more riveting) but it is nonetheless affecting if only because we knew Tillman so well here. Too bad most Arizonans don't know this story.

Interesting discussion, moving from the All Star festivities themselves, to supposed steroid stars . . to Pat Tillman, the real star. For perspective and contrast, is anybody tired of the tatted-up professional gazillionaire athletes who have been lionized and mollycoddled most all their lives?

The ground is shaking here in Mesa. All the potential candidates who would run against Pearce are currently hiding in their basements behind the shelves holding one year's supply of food and water. Will one of them gain the courage to come up to the surface to challenge the Beast? Only time will tell. The Church created the Beast, however, the Beast is hurting recruiting. Oh, what to do, what to do?? Salt Lake, send us a sign, send us a sign.

azrebel, you might want to check out the offical letter from Salt Lake. Jon posted a link to it and I'm looking in discussions past to find it. Basically, the church's position is in conflict with Pearce's...

I understand your point pSf, however, the Church most likely remained silent while the Beast made his climb, since the Church would want it's members in positions of power, whoever they are and however they got there. This one just outgrew his britches and forgot that it's all about the $$$$$$$ and not about far rightwingnut ideology. The White Salamander does not speak to those who no longer wish to hear.

Good AZrebel, haven’t heard anyone refer to the "white salamander" in a while. The godhead in Salt Lake is not happy with kooks as they really do hurt the creeping stealth underlying principals of the cult; White supremacy and $$$$$. Despite the current appearance of leaders in the cult the philosophy has only temporarily altered since epileptic Joe smoked Missouri River bank marijuana containing ground salamander (Indian medicine practice that helps with seizures) and it will change back to fundamentalism in time. Recently I read five books on the FLDS and I recommend such reading for those who see a positive in the cult or any organized religion. Currently I am in cult country; it’s white, it’s right, it’s tight and the food is boring. I am on my way today to one of the cult massacre grounds.
Speaking of professional athletes I quit watching sports in 64 with the exception of high school wrestling and a little bit of college track (not field). Thugs and the Mob control the day in Pro sports. Gee that’s sorta, kinda like organized religion.

Hmm, lets stick to good Mexican food instead of thugs and the Mob. It's much more provocative than you think. As a side note, the remains of where La Cucaracha (the Roach) have been torn down. It was my favorite Mexican restaurant for a long time. It closed after 50 years in business in the mid 90's.

Remind me I cannot recall the location of the "roach". I recall La Casita, and Woody's El Nido.
Well it's going on seven days now and i have yet to see a person of color.
It's all white bread and steak and potato's.

I would love to hear Cal dish dirt on the mob and pro sports, especially in Phoenix. But I know he won't. He is The Professional.

Mexican food. I remember Sevilla's in the barrio by St. Lukes. Used to be a favorite Code 7 place for ambulance and PD. Pepino's Patio on Scottsdale Road was good, long gone. El Charro in Prescott. Jordan's, of course. Woody's is buried beneath the faux Aztec temple on Central, the food still good. La Perla and Los Olivos are still great; Los Dos Molinos, if you can stand the abuse. Los Sombreros on S-dale Road. Susie's on 16th Street if you have the cajones to walk in as an Anglo. Matador is so-so but rich history and great people-watching downtown. Is Carolina's still going? Sixteenth in general is rich in real, throw-down Sonoran, including the Ranch Market. And the taco trucks -- great Mexican hot dogs at the one on east McDowell after dark. Yum.

The Roach was originally on the SE corner of 7th & Indian School, then it moved east of Lopers & McDonalds at 9th? and Indian School. I remember Pepino's Patio -- first Mexican place I ever went to (with my parents, usually after a day of boating at Saguaro Lake). Carolina's on Mojave & 12th is still there. What kind of abuse at Los Dos (other than long waits to get a table)?

Late 60's-early 70's: El Maya @ 10th St. & Indian was the real deal run by the Corral family. Our timid Minnesota whitebread children (aged 4 and 6) started with cheese crisps and migrated to green chile burritos several years later. The Margaritas were made with fresh limones and Cointreau if you knew the bartender and sometimes there were two awesome guitar players. Today, our favorite place is Flavios on the Malecon in Rocky Point . . . fishing boats, pelicans and all . . with the MP Lawyer stuffed chile and a flagon of Negro Modelo!

Los Dos: Long wait, Cruella the reservation dominatrix, and the drunken guitar-player by the time you get in. Still love it. Best New Mexican-style cuisine in town. In an old mortuary and Tom Mix's house.

Per, Gloria my Spanish girl friend the La Cucaracha (the Roach) that was on the north side of east Indian School was owned by Southerner Jerry Balgenorth and his Spanish wife (second generation from Spain) Juaquinia Vivaretta. Even though Gloria was born in Arizona in 36 she does not recall the Roach being on the SE corner of Indian School road. Juaquinia’s cousin was married to Jerry Kimmel, my boss in the PPD organized crime unit.
Los Dos Molina’s was started in Springerville by the family matriarch and this original restaurant and all the old cars are still on site and working. A younger daughter has opened a Los Dos Molina’s in New York.
Currently for “to go food” I go to Molina’s. For Flan I go to El Barrio at 16 street and Thomas. For regular meals I go to Gallo Blanco in the Clarendon hotel. The spot investigative reporter Don Bolles was murdered by John Adamson and crew. El Gallo is owned by a man from Mexico. He is a Mexican and American citizen. The product of a Jewish Chicago father and a Mexican mother. The food is excellent. If you go tell the manager, Susan Hi for me.
Ok a quiz. What Mexican food restaurant in the 50’s barred black folks from their establishment on Central Avenue just south of Grant Street on the west side of the street?